a satyr

A satyr and a fiend in circular play

Lurking for every trace of movement

Juxtaposed by awareness.

They howl to the sand and then

Reach out to full extension of mind

Only to produce a mimicry of passion.

Now they push harder

Harder only feeds the kickback

Mutual effort to build

A blossom in mutant soil.

Now I am observing them lay off

Crippled by consciousness

Born is the gap

Between your shake and mine

Between your words and mine

Between your ways

And mine.


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